


the witcher and his bard

by yaskiers



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, Ficlets, Gen, Geraskier, M/M, geralt of rivia is ciris dad, twitter fics, yengeraskier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaskiers/pseuds/yaskiers
Summary: basically all of my geraskier/the witcher drabbles in one place. probably unrelated
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt/Jaskier, geraskier - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38
Collections: these bitches gay! good for them!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a place for my geraskier/the witcher mini-fics!
> 
> feel free to say hi on twitter @wlwmorgana :)

jaskier. a nickname, a mask, a person he wishes he was. the bard, the confident, invincible, headstrong bard. jaskier the bard did what he wanted, when he wanted. jaskier the bard was always with the witcher. his witcher.

but he wasn’t jaskier. not anymore.

after that day on the mountain, julian had tried to fake it. 

( _it’s real till you admit it isn’t_ ) 

he tried. but something was wrong. whether it was his simple inability to play without the knowledge that the witcher was watching, or a product of his heartbreak, he didn’t know

this went on for weeks, until the weeks became months. he just couldn’t play. the notes were wrong, his voice broke, he couldn’t bring himself to face the memories. 

so he didn’t.

he moved back to oxenfurt and worked under a professor there, teaching the next generation of bards. he hated it. 

but it was the closest he would get to his old life, and so he took it.

“jaskier” was no more. only julian.

and yet by some miracle, he saw the white wolf once more. 

“jaskier?” his voice said. the voice he had missed with every fiber of his being. 

he turned around to face geralt.

“it’s julian.”

“julian,” geralt said, the name unfamiliar. “i’m sorry.”

“i know.” julian said softly. “so am i.”

he forgave geralt. he had never had the heart to stay mad at him for long, and no matter how long it had been, some things never changed

but the way that geralt said _julian_ , as if it was the most precious name in the world. 

that alone made him forgive him a thousand times over


	2. Chapter 2

“jaskier.”

his voice was quiet. it seemed as if the one time he truly had to speak, his words failed him yet again. 

“jaskier. jaskier _please_.”

he could feel his heart pounding, an endless rhythm, tearing him apart from the inside out. 

breathe, geralt. breathe.

his hands shook as he unfurled them from jaskier’s jacket. his bloodstained jacket. 

he looked down at the bard in his arms, the bard who had followed him to the end of the world. the bard who had been so loyal, who had stuck with him until the very end. even though he didn’t deserve it. 

not a _single bit._

the blood was everywhere. it made him sick. on his hands, on the ground, everywhere everywhere everywhere.

dead. jaskier was dead. 

he was gone.

he had always known this day would come. ( _don’t get attached don’t get attached dontgetattached-_ )

he had known what would happen. and yet 

**here we are**

he had allowed himself to ignore the wisdom of vesemir. he had allowed himself to be happy.

he truly was a monster.

(and he had been happy. happy to watch his bard’s smile, to listen to his songs and mindless humming, to see the way his face lit up when he talked about the things he loved. happy to feel his touch, to kiss him and hold him and _love_ him.)

but happiness never lasts. all of the stories of the ballads and it seemed that they had forgotten the one rule. 

happiness. never. lasts.

geralt of rivia buried his bard by the sea. 

with him, he buried the last of his humanity.

and when he walked away, his heart broken, his soul emptier than before

he knew he would never return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops?


	3. Chapter 3

dont imagine the death of geralt of rivia. dont imagine jaskiers scream as the (his) witcher fell for the last time, and never got up. dont imagine jaskier staring at himself in the mirror before the funeral as the tears fell (again), 

hating himself for being the last one standing.  
(it should have been him)

dont imagine him standing over geralts casket, ciri beside him, knowing that it should have been him. dont imagine him going to their (his) room, and falling to the floor, clutching his knees and sobbing. dont imagine him sitting there for hours, not being able to stand up and live again, because how could he?

dont imagine the death of geralt of rivia, and definitely don’t imagine how jaskier reacted to it.

seriously don’t imagine jaskier taking off his wedding ring eventually, because feeling it’s weight on his fingers is too much.   
a constant reminder. he wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t fast enough. he wasn’t enough.

don’t even think about imagining the nightmares that leave jaskier screaming as he wakes, searching blindly for geralt until he realizes through his tears that he’s not there. he never will be again. 

it would be horrible to imagine that eventually jaskier gives it all up. he cant play anymore, the memories falling too heavily on him, whispers of geralt everywhere and anywhere. always present.

he burns his lute one night. 

as the flames finally flicker out, his whisper is the only sound in the dead silence.

“ _i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, dear heart._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’d say sorry but we all know i’m not


	4. Chapter 4

after the mountain jaskier has dreams about his witcher. no, not that kind, but dreams of what his life, their life, could have been. 

dreams of what it would have been if geralt loved him back.

in his dreams, geralt finally admits that he does care for him (love is something he seems incapable of saying. but jaskier is alright with that. he shows in differently, but it’s still there)

in his dreams, geralt holds him, holds him close. in his dreams the soft smile that geralt always directed at yen, was finally directed at him. in his dreams, everything was perfect.

but dreams never last, and jaskier always woke up. he would cry, alone, feeling as if his very being had been ripped from him on that mountain. 

it wasn’t real, and he knew that. and yet he still liked the lie, the illusion, better than the truth

eventually he couldn’t handle it anymore. reality was simply too much-

he found a solution soon enough.

a sorcerer, who specialized in the mind. a director who could put him to sleep, so that he could stay in those dreams forever.

he would rather live a lie forever than face the truth.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> geralt and jaskier in the rain. that’s it. that’s the tweet.

geralt and jaskier walking through the forest when it starts raining, both of them getting soaked to the bone. jaskier’s curly hair is plastered to his forehead, and despite the cold and the rain he’s smiling, twirling around and looking like a complete idiot.

geralt, in a moment of complete irrationality, throws his heavy cloak to jaskier. after all, if he gets sick geralt will have to wait for him to get better, and they _can’t have that_.

so geralt watched as jaskier dances in the rain, singing his stupid ballads with a stupid smile on his stupid face wearing geralts stupid cloak and wonders, for the first time, if maybe this whole “witcher’s don’t have feelings” thing might be a bit hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am: ashamed of how short this is


	6. the witch and her bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> basically: si tries writing yenskier and hopes it isn’t too bad

yennefer knows she’s too much. too powerful, too confident, too feeling, too beautiful for most men to handle. men, she has found, prefer it when their female lovers are quiet and unassuming, keeping to themselves and being seen, not heard.

yennefer does not give a single fuck about what men prefer. 

she is as she wants to be, her will is her own, and it always has been. she bows to no man, and she makes sure everyone knows it. 

she enjoyed her time with geralt for that reason- the witcher understood this well

finding out their entire relationship was due to his wish- his meddling with destiny, had put a damper on that. the new knowledge made her feel trapped, as if she had been fooled into her feelings. it was interesting, that that day on the mountain had given her something quite valuable. geralt’s bard. jaskier. 

they had met again at a ball, one of the dozens she went to for her own amusement, the feeling of having the eyes of everyone on her never quite lost its thrill.

and there he was, playing the lute he had always played, standing near the head table. she could almost feel when he saw her, his eyes going wide and his expression almost vulnerable for a moment, before it was hidden again.

ever the true performer, she supposed.

she followed him, after the end of the ball. why, she wasn’t so sure of, but she did.

he paused, apparently more observant than she had expected, and turned.

“why are you following me, witch?” 

“why are you alone, bard?”

they both stayed silent, neither willing to answer.

the answer to both questions was geralt, of course.

yennefer had enough love for the witcher left to want to keep the bard safe, if only safe enough to annoy later.

and jaskier knew when he wasn’t wanted.

and so a tumultuous friendship was formed. 

jaskier followed yennefer much as he had the witcher, and yennefer allowed it, just as the witcher had.

he was easy to care for, his annoyance overshadowed by his small moments of kindness, but most of all, he was accepting of anything yennefer could think to throw at him.

she supposed twenty years by a witcher’s side helped with keeping an open mind.

and one day she asked him, her voice as confident as always, but with a hint of something in the background.

“am i not too much?”

jaskier smiled, and stilled his hand on his lute.

“yes, of course you are. but stories are not written about those who are just enough.”


	7. acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> geralt: i’m a monster. fear me
> 
> jaskier: lmao that’s cute can i use that in a song

geralt being terrified of the day that jaskier sees his eyes pitch black, being absolutely certain that this will be the last straw, he’ll finally leave and geralt will be alone again. (he tries to tell himself that this is what he wants, he won’t miss his bard, he won’t)

but geralt has never been a very good liar, even to himself.

but the day that jaskier does see him, when he turns geralt around searching for injuries, the only reaction the bard gives is a small gasp, and then: “this is amazing. i’ve needed new metaphors for your eyes and now look at all the possibilities! obsidian, the vast night- OH i can even compare your eyes to the difference between the heaven and the earth, this is wonderful-“

**Author's Note:**

> on twitter and tumblr as @wlwmorgana
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
